by Simone Pond
CHAPTER 2
The iridescent violet sphere whooshed from my body across the floor and engulfed the terrorist as his fist pounded his chest. The explosion of black fire erupted from his body but was immediately absorbed by my magical shield and evaporated into a vacuum of nothingness. A sonic boom shot outward, launching me backwards into a row of surprised and shocked guests. Crack! My head smacked against the ballroom floor and pain splintered through my skull. In my blurry vision, it looked as though no one else was injured. What a relief. I sat up and rubbed the bump on the back of my head.
Nils ran over and helped me to my feet. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You gonna tell me what you used on that guy?” He stepped back and looked me up and down. “I don’t see any magical devices on your person.”
The moment of relief was over. It was about to get complicated. Though I was officially an operative, I had used unsanctioned magic. Not only that, I’d used the kind of magic our people don’t have access to. I’d used left-bank magic. Powerful magic.
“Maybe I should slip out of here before it gets ugly,” I said.
Nils glanced around the ballroom, which was turning into mayhem with guests scattering and scampering toward the exits as quickly as possible. He took my hand and started moving through the crowd.
“Jordan!” Counselor Magnus stalked toward me, his greenish-yellow, panther-like eyes gleaming with intensity.
I halted. “Never mind,” I mumbled to Nils, motioning to the counselor.
“You think you’ll get chewed out? You just saved everyone’s asses,” Nils said.
“Asses saved or not, I broke the rules.”
He shook his head, grinning. “You sure as hell did. I’ve never seen anything like that before. You have some serious ’splaining to do.”
Counselor Magnus appeared in front of us. He always seemed taller than I remembered. And the man knew how to loom.
“We need to speak, Jordan. In private,” he said.
Nils puffed up his chest. “I’m her partner; wherever Jordan goes, I go.”
“Uh-uh. Your services aren’t needed.” Magnus dismissively waved him off.
Nils started to blurt, “I don’t take orders from—”
I nudged his shoulder. “It’s fine. Go find Dreamgirl. She’ll probably need some consoling after that crazy near-death experience.”
He gave me his infamous sly grin. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, partner.”
Magnus took my elbow. “This way, Jordan. Prime Master’s office.”
I glanced around the ballroom, searching for my mother. Not that I needed her help—I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Across the room, she was accompanying an elderly couple toward the far exit. Thank goodness, she was all right. Just as Magnus opened the door that led to the administrative wing, my mother turned around and spotted me. A flicker of worry flashed across her eyes. But I smiled with a reassuring nod, then walked into the hallway with Magnus.
“Impressive stunt you pulled back there,” he said.
I let the echo of our shoes clacking on the polished floor be my answer. No need to start the discussion without the Prime Master present.
The corridor seemed to stretch longer than usual as we made our way to my grandfather’s office at the end. The antiquated paintings of previous magistrates and nobility of Mysterium appeared a bit more sinister in the dim light streaming from the sconces. This wing of the mansion had mostly been off-limits to me, except for important and often unpleasant family matters or business. No fond memories, that’s for sure. The stark vibe gave me the creeps. These walls held secrets and information that only the highest council members were privy to. And besides that, it reminded me of a mausoleum.
Magnus knocked on the wooden double doors leading to my grandfather’s office. My shoulders tensed up a bit—I wasn’t intimidated by these men, more like a touch anxious about being underprepared.
“Enter.” My grandfather’s muffled voice came from behind the closed doors.
Magnus turned the knob and we entered the grand office. The hearty scent of pine rushed over me. Grandfather stood at his floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the River Elin. The full moon hung directly over the water, illuminating the flowing ripples in pale white streaks, and millions of stars decorated the black sky. Far across the river stood rows of factories, but even they looked beautiful with their twinkling lights glittering in the distance. None of the billows of muck made it to our side of the city, since the winds carried all the pollution downstream.
“Sit,” my grandfather instructed.
I sat in one of the wingback chairs in front of his enormous oak desk. He stepped away from the windows and sat in his leather chair at his desk. The clocked ticked. I could hear car wheels crunching on the gravel path as guests drove away from the estate and operative units arrived. Nice try, using silence as a psychological weapon—but I actually welcomed the quiet. It gave me time to organize my thoughts and figure out how to frame what had happened back in the ballroom. I needed to tread carefully, though. These two wouldn’t be as easily duped as some of the sergeants in my operative training. Whatever I told them would have to be solid. The truth was an option, but just how much of it was I willing to share? Judging from the lines deepening in Grandfather’s forehead, very little.
Magnus walked to the windows and gazed out; the moon lit up the right side of his face, accentuating the cut above his eye. “So, Jordan. You care to enlighten us about what happened back there?”
Care to, no. But did I have a choice? I figured the best place to start would be with the obvious facts.
“I was dancing. I noticed a suspicious-looking man. My instincts kicked in, so I went to investigate. Turns out he was a terrorist mage. As you know …”
Grandfather let out an annoyed huff and leaned back in his throne of a leather chair. “That’s not what we’re asking. Why do you always have to be … so …” He pounded his fist onto the desk.
I pressed back against the hard cushion of my chair. The conversation had just started and already the fist had come down. That was faster than normal—I might’ve broken the record. By now I should’ve been used to my grandfather’s sudden outbursts, but his intensity still prompted shockwaves down my spine. I was always astonished that someone of his rank, breeding, and stature didn’t exercise more composure. That’s what he had Magnus for. The counselor turned from the window, approached me and sat in the wingback chair adjacent to mine.
He picked a piece of lint off the sleeve of his dinner jacket and flicked it to the floor. “Jordan, what type of magic did you use on the mage? We’ve never seen anything like that before—at least not without the assistance of a device.” He eyed me up and down. “And I don’t see how you could’ve possibly fit any devices into that dress.”
If you wait long enough, sometimes they’ll give you what they’re willing to believe. Now I had a plausible explanation, thanks to good old Magnus.
“But that’s exactly what happened. I didn’t have a device on me, and time was of the essence. So I grabbed Nils’s and approached the suspect.” Lying about my magic was something I’d mastered over the years. I considered it a survival tool.
“Quick thinking. And where is the device now?” Magnus asked, flicking off another piece of lint.
“I gave it back to Nils.”
Grandfather released a deep bellow and pushed away from his desk. He stood and came around to me, then bent down and grabbed my face, spit spraying as he barked, “You little liar! You used that filthy left-bank magic. It’s in your blood. You think I don’t know? You’ve slipped one too many times. You’re a disgrace to this family!”
Magnus stepped over and swiftly removed my grandfather’s painful grip from my cheeks, then ushered the seething old man back to his leather chair. I rubbed my burning skin, holding back the urge to unleash my magic on my grandfather right then and there. My powers don’t work for selfish vengeanc
e or hateful purposes. I know, because I’ve tried on several occasions—it only backfires and ends up harming me. My best defense against Prime Master Bachar would be to withhold any confessions of my secret. And I’d been playing that game my whole life.
Magnus handed me his silk handkerchief. “Let’s calm down a bit, shall we?”
“I’m completely calm,” I said, wiping off my grandfather’s spittle.
Magnus inhaled deeply and slowly released it. “Prime Master, I think it’s best if you let me handle the discussion.”
Grandfather huffed again and stalked out of the office, slamming the heavy doors behind him.
“Thanks.” I held out the handkerchief to Magnus, which he waved away. “I have to be honest, Counselor, this feels more like an interrogation.”
He smiled and walked over to the bar and poured a couple of glasses of water. “Official appearances. For your grandfather’s sake.” He handed me one of the glasses. “Now that we’re alone, may we speak like normal people?”
I chugged back the water, not caring what Magnus thought of my unladylike behavior. I was parched and drained from pulling on my magic at such intense levels. The champagne hadn’t helped either.
“Magnus, you and I both know we’re far from normal. Look around. We’re sitting in the Prime Master’s office. You’re his right-hand man. I’m the adopted daughter of Charity Bachar.”
He smirked and sat down across from me. “Fair enough. But would you please tell me what happened back there? You will not be punished, if that’s your concern.”
He thought I was worried about being punished? I wasn’t worried about my personal consequences. I was more concerned about my mother. Exposing my powerful magic might cause serious embarrassment and bring shame to the Bachar name and reputation. I’d done enough damage with my going-against-the-grain antics over the years.
“What we discuss stays between us,” Magnus assured me.
Could I trust Magnus?
“What about the Prime Master?” I asked.
“I’ll use my discretion. If it’s something he needs to know, I’ll tell him. I’m not here to make threats against you, Jordan. I’m here to fix things.”
“Fix things?” I asked.
“A room full of high-society Oligarchs and top council members just witnessed you using magic. In addition to being unsanctioned, it was highly unusual. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Oh, I understood. He had me between Scylla and Charybdis. But Magnus was the expert at getting people out of hard places. He was legendary in smoothing over various political disasters for my grandfather. He had even worked his diplomatic magic renegotiating trades with the city of Pyre—and vampires are notorious for holding long-lasting grudges. If my actions had raised any suspicion among the top ranks of Mysterium, Magnus was the right person to make it go away—although, this would come at a cost.
“So you want to help me?” I asked.
He set down his untouched water. “Yes.”
Something didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t just walk out of that office and go about my business like nothing had happened. People in Mysterium talked. The rumors would spread. I’d get pulled from the Jade Division and shipped off to some obscure city like the Madlands, never to be seen again …
“Fine. What do you need?”
He smiled and patted my knee. “Don’t look so grim, Jordan. Tell me what happened. You never know—there might be some good news as a result.”
Good news? Then why did it seem like I was making a deal to sign away my soul?
“That’s right, Jordan. If you have special magic you’ve been hiding, it could work in our favor. I might have an important covert assignment.”
CHAPTER 3
In the cold, gray dawn of Monday morning, I stood crouched in an alley just outside the busiest coffee shop on the right bank. It was still early, so the place wasn’t open for business yet. One of the workers, a tall guy with long, scrawny arms, washed the outside windows with a blade apparatus. Earlier that morning, Counselor Magnus had sent a text that woke me up out of a dead sleep. He gave me an address and call time and that’s it. I guess the details of my first “covert” assignment would come later. This definitely wasn’t my style. I preferred to know all the specifics and assess all the possible outcomes. Unknowns made me uncomfortable. I checked my phone again. Still nothing.
The crisp morning air coming off the River Elin chilled my teeth. It might’ve been early spring in Mysterium, but winter still gripped the city. I zipped up my bomber jacket and wrapped my scarf tightly around my neck. What in Ashtar’s name was Magnus up to? I was supposed to show up at the Jade Division in an hour and didn’t want to be late on the first day. This operation was off the books, so it wouldn’t show up on my record—which meant no demerits on my official position in the Jade Division if I botched the assignment. But that also meant no merits if the mission was successful, and I officially had big plans for my career in Jade. And Counselor Pierce Magnus wasn’t a part of them.
“We’re not open for another ten minutes!” the lanky window washer shouted to a few anxious customers stalking the front of the place. They were getting their smudgy fingerprints all over the windows the poor guy had just wiped clean.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I grabbed it and checked. It was Magnus with his next step of instructions.
When you see the mage, let him be. Use your shield against anyone who tries to stop him. Including operatives.
That made absolutely zero sense, and I told him as much. His response was: Stay out of view. Check behind the dumpster.
Behind the dumpster, I found a bag containing a fancy white cape with a fur hood that a wealthy Oligarch woman would wear. My vision tunneled and my heartbeat thumped hard as the reality of what was happening started sinking in: Magnus wanted me to disguise myself, go into the shop, and use my magic to allow an attack on our own people. Was he was setting up a false-flag? Or trying to build on the momentum of the outrage over what happened at my mother’s ball? Was he paving the road to go to war with the left bank so he could instate stricter laws on magic? Whatever his motives, I didn’t agree with this plan of action.
I texted back, No.
His response masqueraded as an option.
If you’d like to back out, I can reverse the media reports. Alternative headline: Mysterium Shocked! Prime Master’s granddaughter living secretly as a mage …
I kicked the brick wall, chipping off a few chunks.
He sent another text a few seconds later.
I hear the Madlands are quite lovely this time of year.
I almost winged my phone across the alley. The Madlands were no place for a right-bank Bachar, adopted or not. I’d be eaten alive out in that cesspool. What was I supposed to do? Go against everything I’d been training for the last three years and let innocent people be harmed for Magnus’s malicious cause?
The front door to the coffee shop opened and a stream of customers bustled into the place, jonesing for their caffeine fix. Among the stylish and suit-wearing right-bankers stood a rawboned teenage boy in a dark blue designer suit that he was swimming in. In the fashion of most right-bank men, his brownish-auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail. Only it wasn’t his real hair. The stiff, dry tail looked like it had been stolen off the back of a mare. That had to be my target. Or rather my non-target. The mage I was supposed to ignore, per Magnus.
Two male operatives in black bombers like mine strolled into the shop. They looked familiar—fellow recent graduates who were on their first day on the job in the Jade Division. And they had no idea what was about to go down.
I put on the gaudy white cape, pulling the hood over my head to conceal my identity, then crept out of the alley. I crossed the cobblestone street, squeezing past the line of customers flowing out the front door of the coffee shop, and stood in the back corner and pressed against the wall. I pretended to be deeply engaged in a text conversation as I kept a close watch on the te
enager in the baggy suit. His nervous glances darted around the room as he scoped out the customers. He froze when he spotted the operatives standing in line. With trembling hands, he took out his phone and sent a text. I’m sure it was to Magnus, because I received one from the counselor seconds later.
One minute.
That’s all it said, but those two words held more weight than any burden I’ve ever known. As much as it sickened me, I reached down deep into my core for my source of magic. I called on the illuminating violet light, pulling it out of the depths and forcing my magic to rise. I waited and watched until finally the teenager stepped out of line.
“And now you must know your end is nigh!” he shouted.
He waved his hand over his chest in a circle, ready to unleash whatever black magic he had in store. The two operatives leapt out of line and hoisted their devices—silver batons that would send waves of electromagnetic currents to create an unbreakable crystal cage, also known as a mage-cage. They aimed at the teenager, but I flung my magic forward, producing an invisible barrier in front of them, rendering their weapons useless. The mage brought his fist onto his chest, unleashing a hoard of slithering golden serpents into the coffee shop. The operatives pounded my invisible wall, trying to break free. Customers shrieked in horror as the serpents slid up their legs and strangled their necks. How long was I supposed to let this go on? Thirty seconds was already an eternity.
The teenager who had released the chaos stepped away and inched toward the back exit. I wanted to chase him down, but I’d deal with him later. The lanky employee from earlier jumped onto the counter and aimed his device (shops were permitted to carry weapons as long as they were licensed) into the mayhem. He began firing off electric bolts at the hundreds of snakes wriggling across the floor. He zapped the hideous creatures, killing a large portion of them—but it was impossible to get the ones already assailing the customers. The golden creatures squeezed, hissed, and bit at the frantic crowd and some of the patrons began dropping. That was it—I couldn’t watch another second. I released my magic barrier and let the operatives loose. They joined the employee on the counter to shoot at the golden serpents. Still cloaked, I sent forth my magic and funneled as many of the slithering creatures as I could into a corner, where they’d be easy targets. The three men fired a multitude of blasts, killing the entire hoard of serpents.
